Alisanne Dupre
by Heiwako
Summary: What was it like when Cicero met Alisanne Dupre? One-shot.


**Fredas 24th of Rain's Hand, 4E 187 1:00 PM**

"Did you hear? Alisanne Dupre is coming today to discuss something with Rasha," Synniu Vicici said excitedly. "Can you believe it?"

"Who's Alisanne Dupre?" Cicero asked looking up from brushing Sabrinda's hair. He hadn't particularly wanted to do the chore, but Sabrinda had asked so very sweetly with her huge green eyes and long eyelashes that he had been unable to resist his sister.

"You honestly don't know, Chickpea?" Synniu snorted. "Sometimes I wonder about you."

"Don't tease our brother, my twin," Sabrinda said lazily from her reclining position on her bed with her head resting in Cicero's lap. She smiled and patted Cicero's hand as he frowned at Synniu using that silly nickname someone had suggested for him a few days ago. "It's not Cicero's fault that he comes from provincial Bruma. He may as well have been living with the Nords in Skyrim for all their culture up there."

Although Cicero had only joined the Cheydinhal Sanctuary five months ago, it felt like a lifetime. He had settled in well with his new family members even if part of him still mourned the death of his Bruma family. Sabrinda had particularly been helpful in Cicero's adapting to his new home, but Synniu, her identical twin, had been less so. Cicero suspected that she was jealous that her blood sister's attention was on someone else and he was also suspicious that she had been the origin of the Chickpea nickname. It seemed to fit how much the younger twin liked to pick at Cicero every chance she got.

"Pardon me for being such a backwater yokel," Cicero grumbled as his deft hands braided Sabrinda's dark hair. "Maybe the wise and powerful Synniu would please enlighten me?" Sabrinda threw her hands up in the air as she laughed loudly at Cicero's retort.

"Alisanne Dupre just happens to be the Dark Brotherhood's Listener," Synniu informed Cicero coldly. "Can I assume you know what a Listener is or do I need to explain that slowly and loudly for you as well?"

"I don't understand why the two of you fight so much," Sabrinda said, trying to play peacemaker.

Normally Cicero would feel grateful for her interference, but his mind was elsewhere. The Listener was here? In Cheydinhal? He knew about the role of Listener and how important it was to the Brotherhood, but he had not heard the name of the woman who held it or anything else about her. Suddenly the Imperial had to know more if only to include in his journal for personal prosperity if nothing else.

"When is she arriving?" Cicero asked. He put on his most charming smile, but Synniu seemed immune to it.

"I think she'll be here a little before dinner," she answered. "The cat insists we all try to clean as much as possible before the Listener's arrival. He wants to make sure we make a good impression as the last functioning Sanctuary in Cyrodiil for our blessed Listener."

Cicero nodded as he ran his hand through his own crew cut hair. He had been forced to crop his hair short for the Baroness contract so he could infiltrate as a soldier more easily and was still unused to the new length. Normally he kept his blood red hair short, but never this nonexistent before. "I'll work on the training room," he offered. Surely the Listener would wish to see them perform during her visit and it would be important that the training dummies were properly stuffed and mounted on the wall. He quickly left the sleeping area to follow action to words.

"Jealous, sister?" Synniu asked laughing.

"Hardly," Sabrinda sniffed as Cicero scurried away. "Alisanne is old enough to be our brother's mother. I doubt she could take his attention away from me at all."

* * *

**Fredas 24th of Rain's Hand, 4E 187 6:00 PM**

Cicero huffed in frustration as he tried to get into a position where he could see their guest clearly. The redhead was used to being the shortest from living in Bruma, a Nordic dominated settlement, but it felt more frustrating when he was among other Imperials and they were all a few inches taller than he. Even Sabrinda and Synniu were about two inches taller and they were the next shortest family members and female. The other males were usually at least four inches taller than he.

Normally Cicero didn't mind his smallness for it had served him well as an assassin. People tended to forget about smaller folk while tall people stood out in a passerby's memory. During the occasions where anonymity failed, Cicero was able to play off being weak and vulnerable. It was a strategy he used time and time again to get close to his targets and it suited him very well.

However, this once Cicero wished he was at least a few inches taller so he would see over the shoulders of his family members as the Listener entered Sanctuary. He had spent the whole afternoon meticulously cleaning the training room until it practically shone from scrubbing. Then, realizing he stank of sweat and was covered in dust, Cicero had dashed to do a quick clean up with a bowl and cloth. Unfortunately, this caused him to arrive last in the main entry room and he was unable to find a place where he could get a good view as the rest of the family jostled around to get their own first glimpse of the most blessed sibling of the Dark Brotherhood.

"Will you please stop jostling around back there?" Synniu hissed. "I cannot concentrate if you're going to be wiggling around like a puppy about to piss himself."

"I cannot see," Cicero countered sharply. "Why don't you let me stand in front of you?"

"You should have been here sooner," Synniu snorted.

"Quiet, you two!" Sabrinda whispered. "Rasha is entering Sanctuary now."

The three of them stood at attention with the rest of the family as they heard the Black Door rasp its traditional greeting of "Welcome home, my brother," followed by a new greeting of "Welcome home, blessed Listener."

"Ah," Rasha practically purred when he saw that the Family was gathered waiting for him and their esteemed guest, "Listener Alisanne Dupre, our family is eagerly awaiting our arrival. I assure you they are never so prompt for me." He chuckled lowly.

Cicero bounced on his feet as he tried to see the woman with Rasha. There was a glimpse of a chin, a flicker of loose robes, the back view of her long, blonde hair as she turned to talk with Garnag and Andronica, but he couldn't see anything definite. Would it be rude to pull a chair out and stand on it?

The woman was short or Cicero would have been able to see her better. Not surprising considering that she was a Breton. Cicero could make out Rasha casually throwing his arm over Alisanne Dupre's shoulder as he addressed the Family. "This one is certain you all know that we are very honored by the presence of our most blessed and esteemed Listener taking time from her personal residence in Bravil to visit our lowly home. Rasha expects everyone to be on their best behavior and treat the Listener with the respect that her position deserves." He winked impishly at the group as if sharing some private joke. A few laughed, but Cicero frowned. Didn't the Khajiit ever take anything seriously?

"In the meantime, the Listener and I have business to attend," Rasha continued, "so we will take a private meeting. All of you are dismissed." He turned to escort the Listener to his personal chambers. By the time the rest of Cicero's siblings had dispersed, all he could see of the Listener was her back and the cut of her fine mage clothes.

* * *

**Fredas 24th of Rain's Hand, 4E 187 10:00 PM**

Cicero nibbled on his quill as he tried to place his thoughts in his journal for the day. Rasha and Alisanne Dupre had taken a private meal in Rasha's room instead of joining the rest of the Family at the common table. Cicero had felt quite vexed to still have not seen the Listener's face and that she had not been given a proper tour of Sanctuary after everyone had worked so hard on getting the place perfect for her.

Normally Cicero did not have any problem putting words to paper, but tonight it just felt impossible to concentrate. The sleeping area was a bit more crowded and louder than usual since everyone had come in to be present for Alisanne Dupre's arrival. Garnag and Qorwyn, an Altmer male, were sitting around a small circular table drinking mead while watching Synniu and Sabrinda wrestle on their beds which had been pushed together to make a larger surface.

The twins were half naked, wearing only sleeveless undershirts and their smallclothes. They fairly shrieked as they tumbled around tickling each other and writhing endlessly. Their little game had been going on for about an hour and Cicero was tiring of the noise.

"Sisters, could you keep it down just a little bit?" Cicero asked sharply.

"Chickpea, please don't ruin this for me," Qorwyn drawled casually. "This is incredibly hot. I'm hoping they'll start making out any moment now."

"They're sisters," Cicero said rolling his eyes. "As in actually blood related sisters. Don't you think that's a little twisted?"

Sabrinda and Synniu had stopped their playing when Cicero had spoken up. Synniu was currently on top of Sabrinda and was resting her head in one hand with her elbow pressed on the mattress. "Dearest brother Chickpea, haven't you ever heard about twins? Two bodies that share one soul? It would no more wrong than if I decided to pleasure myself. Don't you agree, sweet sister?" Synniu cupped Sabrinda's cheek before leaning down to kiss her sister passionately on the lips. Sabrinda murmured happily before eagerly responding.

The Dark Brotherhood brothers reacted with varying degrees of applause and catcalls while Cicero rolled his eyes in disgust. As the room got louder from shouted encouragement from the voyeurs after the twins' shirts came off, Cicero realized he was going to get no peace here tonight. Andronica missed the whole thing as she slept through it sprawled akimbo on her bed. Cicero envied her ability to block out the rambunctious noise as he gathered his materials and left to find some privacy.

It was virtually impossible to be truly alone in Sanctuary, which was usually seen as a bonus and not a flaw. Assassins keep all hours of the day whether it was hours normal people were awake or the late witching hours of midnight and beyond. As such one quickly adapted to sleeping while siblings roamed around getting food or personal items from chests or reading while family members practiced with loud clanging swords and shields. If you ever got tired of the company, then it was simple to take a contract and get some quiet time on the road.

It was what Cicero would have done in any other situation, but he had already taken a contract for the Arena Champion that he planned to finish soon after making a few minor arrangements and the Listener was in Sanctuary and he was determined to at very least see her once. Maybe even talk to her if his tongue didn't swell to the size of a watermelon and freeze his words in his throat. Alisanne Dupre was THE most important member of his family. It was she on which everything hanged as she heard the Night Mother's words and thus the prayers of the desperate and wronged. In turn, she gave instructions to the Speakers who contracted the clients to find out who they wanted dead before giving assignments to the rest of the family. Without the Listener, there would be no Dark Brotherhood!

Of course, the Night Mother would pick a new family member, but one never carelessly threw aside an honored family member.

Cicero made his way down to the small, abandoned room that was at the far end of the hall all the way in the back of Sanctuary. It was far away from both the public room and sleeping areas so he didn't have to worry about anyone interrupting him. Cicero had been told this room once belonged to a vampire during the last era, but now it was merely used for storage since there was no one who needed it. There was a stone slab that was perfect for Cicero to perch on as he wrote.

The Imperial managed to write almost a page of his thoughts of the day's events when he noticed that he could hear the murmur of voices nearby. Cicero looked up in irritation. By Sithis, was there nowhere he could get a little bit of alone time? Who would need some forgotten item in the storage room at this time of night?

As the voices continued, Cicero noticed that they were getting neither closer nor farther away. He got off his sitting place and poked his head out to the hall and saw no one was there, so it wasn't a pair of siblings lollygagging or making out in the less traveled hall. In fact, Cicero noted that the voices were less distinct out here.

Returning to the storage room and rooting around, Cicero was pleased to find an old trap door that had been covered by some discarded chairs. Pulling it open, he could hear more clearly the voices. Cicero would easily make out Rasha's baritone purr and although the woman's voice wasn't familiar he could deduce that it must be Alisanne Dupre's. The voices were too low to hear specific words so it wasn't as if Cicero was eavesdropping.

Now if he were to climb into the tunnel and follow it….

Cicero shook his head. No, no! It would be wrong to spy on the Speaker and Listener. On the other hand, it was Cicero's responsibility to investigate a hidden passage. Covered by chairs, rugs, and dust, it was obvious no one had used it in a long time. Did it go outside? If it was a backdoor escape route then it very easily could be turned as a backdoor entry and that was simply unacceptable.

It was very simple really. Just explore the passage way and be sure to report to Rasha as soon as he was available again. The Khajiit had been squirrelled away with Alisanne Dupre all day discussing very important Black Hand business, so it wasn't as if Cicero would realistically report to him immediately.

The Imperial grinned as he grabbed a torch before dropping down into the short tunnel below. Cicero loved secrets and this would be his very own! At least until he reported to the Speaker.

Cicero could hear running water. Looking down and to his right, he saw that at some point the tunnel had broken away and revealed a running stream, possibly a sewer way. The original path led a short distance, no more than forty or fifty feet in one direction before stopping below another trap door. The boards had shrunk over the years creating gaps large enough to allow light to shine through. He quickly put out his own light before he could be discovered.

"I know the main reason I came to visit was to discuss reopening the Archon Sanctuary in Black Marsh," a pleasant female voice said. "However, I also wanted to broach the subject of Falkreath Sanctuary in Skyrim."

"What about it?" Rasha said lazily. Cicero would imagine the cat swishing his full, black tail.

"I think it would be to our advantage to send an envoy up there and make contact with them. I heard through my spy network that their leader died recently and a young snip of a girl has taken over. It would be pragmatic to send someone to remind her that we still exist and are available for consult. I rarely get prayers from Skyrim and I worry that we are losing our influence there."

Cicero pressed his face against the warped wood so he could see into the room. The trap door was directly across from Rasha who was seated in a high back stone chair. The catkin's paws where placed in front of him so the claws were steeple together. His companion was also sitting in a high back chair, but her back was to Cicero so he could only see her booted foot tapping impatiently.

"Rasha feels that would be a bad idea. There is much conflict these days. I have heard word there is war brewing in the west of the Nordic lands in the Reach because of more religious squabbles. With the Thalmor interference here and the civil unrest there, Rasha could not in good conscience send any of our family through so much turmoil," the Speaker said.

"Rasha, our Mother does not care for cautious children," the Listener said sternly. Cicero thought it fascinating that she called their Matron by simply "Mother" instead of her full title of Night Mother. It was almost… intimate. "Our Unholy Lady favors ambition and power above all else. If she wished for us to be sniveling, cowering things then she would have been the mistress of the Thieves' Guild."

"I have only the utmost respect for you, Listener," Rasha snarled, "but I will remind you that you are in my home under my hospitality. Rasha does not take kindly to those who speak in such a way to him." The cat's ears were little more than flat slits against his triangular head.

"_I_ am the leader of this little family," Alisanne Dupre retorted, "and I would remind you that I have final say on how any Sanctuary is ran, so don't try to pull rank on me when you have none!" A short pause as the woman took in a deep breath. "I am not here to cause a squabble. A good leader depends heavily on her advisors and I respect you greatly as one of my Speakers. The Black Hand cannot stand alone with the will of one individual. It never has and never will. We work best together as a strong fist choking the will of Tamriel to our Mother's wishes. We must be able to depend on each other—for if we do not stand together then we will surely swing separately."

"That is why Rasha feels we should focus on consolidation for now," Rasha answered more calmly. "There are too many factors, too many enemies that all wish us dead and destroyed. They would find our Mother and spread her bones to the winds after pissing on them. The shadows have always been our friends as they have been for our cousins, the thieves. We should cling to them and fade from memory. Then when the right assassination is required of us, we will rise to power again."

"I still feel that growth is our only hope," Alisanne said. "We must keep in the eyes of Tamriel at all times. People do not fear what they forget."

"Maybe, maybe not. It is still a topic the Black Hand will decide together, most blessed sister," Rasha smiled wickedly. "Together we are strongest, yes?"

"Yes, Speaker," the Listener sighed. "It is getting late. I believe I will retire. My old bones can't do the long hours any more. I suppose that is one more reason I should give my thanks to Mother in my prayers. This assassin doesn't have to worry about dying in the field after failing to complete a contract."

Rasha stood quickly before Alisanne Dupre would rise from her seat. "Please take Rasha's room while you are here, Listener," he said smoothly. "You deserve a private room given your position. It is the least I can do while you're here."

"And what about yourself, Speaker?" Alisanne Dupre asked amused.

"Hm, maybe Rasha could share his room with the mighty Listener," Rasha flirted as he leaned with his hands on the armrest of the Listener's chair. Cicero felt a strange stab of jealousy at the action despite knowing the Khajiit was simply following his base nature. The catkin liked to play at games because they could, not because they particularly wanted nor needed their goal. Alisanne Dupre simply laughed at the Khajiit's offer.

"Tempting, Speaker, but I'm past the age of spending the night with a warm body," the Listener said gently.

"Oh, please," Rasha scoffed, "you're only in your sixties. I have known elders who still partook in the joys of the flesh and you're much younger than they."

"Mother must come first always," Alisanne Dupre said. "I allow nothing to distract me from her will or her needs, and I feel giving our family strength to get through these lean times must be first on my agenda. Maybe when we are in times of peace I will indulge, but until then I am ever my Mother's loyal daughter."

"As you wish, Listener," Rasha said before he leaned over to pick up one pale dainty hand and kissing it gently. "As long as you remember that Rasha is your faithful servant and will fulfill any duty. Any duty." The emphasis was thick enough to be cut with a butter knife.

"Have no fear, Speaker," she laughed. Cicero thought her voice was like chiming bells on the wind.

After Rasha left, Cicero waited a few more minutes to see if Alisanne Dupre would get up, but she stayed firmly in her chair with her back to the young assassin. He could only assume she was deep in thought regarding her conversation with the Speaker. He opted to return to the storage room and jot down his notes before he forgot them instead of standing in the dark tunnel. So much had happened tonight and he could not afford to miss any detail!

* * *

**Sundas 26th of Rain's Hand, 4E 187 11:00 PM**

"What's wrong, dear brother?" Sabrinda asked. "Not enjoying having the Speaker share our living quarters?"

Cicero was lying on his bed with one arm thrown over his face when the Imperial entered the sleeping area. Many of the Brotherhood had felt uncomfortable with Rasha temporarily moving into the common area, but Cicero didn't mind. A sibling should always be willing and able to share with his siblings when the need arose.

Instead Cicero was vexed that he still had not met the Listener, not even once! Every single time she had been out to survey the Sanctuary or meet her Cheydinhal siblings in the last two days, he had been preoccupied preparing for his Arena contract that left him elsewhere. If Cicero didn't know any better, he would think that Lady Luck was having fun with him.

The other members of the Black Hand had arrived and the ruling members had their meeting regarding policy. Archon would remain closed due to lack of resources and Falkreath would receive a personal letter from Alisanne Dupre urging them to send a representative to meet her. The Listener would be leaving tomorrow and Cicero would probably not get to meet her since he had to leave for the Imperial City to finalize his contract.

Maybe the Listener visited Cheydinhal more often than Bruma and Cicero would have another chance. She had never come to Bruma, but they didn't have a Speaker there and Cheydinhal was closer to Bravil so there was less travel necessary. As long as the Listener prayed once a week to the Lucky Old Lady statue and delivered the Night Mother's words, then her time was her own. Surely Alisanne Dupre would come again to check on her family given her concern about the Family's status.

"Just nervous about my kill tomorrow," Cicero told Sabrinda. He felt a little bad lying to her, but she wouldn't understand his fixation on meeting the Listener. The twins were as loyal as anyone else, but they definitely had a more laid back attitude about authority and how respectful you should be to your elders. Cicero wasn't in the mood for teasing and besides it wasn't as if he wasn't a tiny bit worried. Arena champions are big, tough, and used to people trying to kill them in front of an audience. If Cicero didn't catch the moron off guard, then it was possible Cicero wouldn't come home.

"I know how to help you relax," Sabrinda said smiling as she sat on the bed next to Cicero. She motioned for Cicero to sit up and had him lean back against the bed rest. When she placed her hands on his shoulders, Cicero thought she would give him a back rub. Instead, Sabrinda slid her hands down his chest until they rested on his pants. Her smile never left her lips as she undid the bindings holding the cloth in place.

"What are you doing?" Cicero gasped. Sabrinda was stroking his groin through the cloth and he was already reacting to her attentions. Despite his show of disgust at her actions with Synniu earlier this week, Cicero did find both women extremely attractive and had privately hoped one day both would approach him together about some private time.

"Are you afraid someone will see us? I assure you that fear of discovery adds to the experience," Sabrinda promised as she pushed the concealing cloth down. "I want you to watch me while I do this, okay?" Cicero nodded dumbly as Sabrinda wrapped her lips around his stiff member. Her eyes sparkled as she made eye contact with him as she pleasured him.

With Sabrinda's expert attentions, Cicero came quickly. "Oh gods, that was amazing," he said with a huge smile on his face. The redhead wasn't used to being the one given pleasure. Whether it was to seduce to get closer to the target or personal pleasure, he was usually the subservient one. The reversal had been a surprisingly pleasant change. "You were right. I do feel much more relaxed."

"Good," Sabrinda laughed. She slid so she was lying with her body pressed against Cicero's as he covered himself. She propped one arm on her elbow before placing her head in her palm. "I've neglected you lately."

"We've both been busy," Cicero said.

"Well, I still should make time for you," Sabrinda frowned slightly. "You're my favorite brother and although it was horrible circumstances, I am happy you're here with us now."

Cicero bowed his head and blushed suddenly feeling shy. He smiled at Sabrinda's words. "Thank you," he murmured.

The Imperial woman leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Get some sleep and if I don't see you before you leave, kill well and often."

"Stay with me until I fall asleep?" Cicero asked. He felt foolish to ask, but sometimes he couldn't sleep thinking about the family he had lost in Bruma. Sabrinda's company would help. When she nodded, he tucked his head in the hollow of her shoulder and was asleep in moments.

* * *

**Morndas 27th of Rain's Hand, 4E 187 8:00 AM**

"I'm heading out!" Cicero called from the main room as he threw his pack on his back. It was unlikely anyone would hear him since he hadn't seen anyone around, but Cicero always like to announce he was leaving. It just seemed polite.

"Cicero, before you leave I have a request," Rasha called from his room.

"Yes, Speaker?" Cicero responded. He trotted to the Speaker's room and stopped short when he saw the Khajiit standing there with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Alisanne Dupre was a few inches shorter than he, but it only added to the doll like quality of her features. She was obviously an older woman, but she wore her age well. There was a little tightness around her eyes and mouth, but otherwise her face was remarkably clear of signs of wrinkles or spots. Long golden hair in thick ringlets fell down her back pooling at the base of her spine. The woman wore a very old style of Breton clothes that hadn't been seen in the last couple of hundreds of years, but the wide skirt, long sleeves, and high neckline suited her.

The Listener's eyes were the most fascinating part of her. There was a sharp intelligence in those eyes, but surprisingly was the kindness. Cicero had never seen an assassin with kind eyes before. Cruel, indifferent, and even dead, soulless lost eyes, but never before kind eyes. What kind of woman could be an assassin and exude such an aura?

"Oh for Sithis' sake," Rasha muttered, "close your mouth before you attract dart wings." Cicero hadn't even realized his jaw had dropped until the Speaker had said something. He followed the command with a sharp clack. "Listener Dupre is leaving today, Cicero. Would you be so kind to escort her until your paths diverge?"

"I could escort her all the way to Bravil!" Cicero offered. He thought his voice sounded too loud even to him. Rasha's raised eyebrow indicated he felt the same way. "I don't mind!"

"That's not necessary," Alisanne Dupre laughed lightly. "I don't even really need an escort, but Rasha insisted. Besides, it will give me a chance to get to know you since we haven't actually met." She held out one dainty hand. "I'm Alisanne. Pleased to meet you."

Cicero stared at the small, pale hand with its too delicate bones. He wasn't sure he could touch it without it shattering into a million pieces, but he couldn't refuse the Listener either. Awkwardly, he barely touched the tips of her fingers before putting his arms firmly at his side. "My pleasure, Listener!" he stuttered.

He might have managed to speak more coherently if he hadn't been thanking Sithis, and several other divines and daedra, that Rasha had not called him Chickpea when calling him over. Cicero would have died of shame if the Listener had been introduced to him by that foolish nickname. At the very least, Cicero would have fainted from horror and made a worse impression that the stuttering fool she was seeing now.

Rasha sighed, obviously wondering if he had made the right choice in asking Cicero for his help. "When will you be ready to leave, Listener?"

"I'm ready now," Alisanne Dupre said indicating her light travel bags. "I wouldn't keep our sibling from his target. That would displease Mother greatly."

Cicero scrambled to pick up the Listener's bags before Rasha could move. He almost fell over his own feet as he moved. "Um, right this way, Listener!" he offered as he moved to the Black Door. Internally, Cicero muttered to himself, "Don't mess this up, Cicero."

* * *

**27th of Rain's Hand, 4E 187 12:00 PM**

"You've been very quiet," Alisanne Dupre commented. The two of them had stopped by a river for lunch. The Listener was sitting with her feet primly tucked under her as she bit into a load of bread.

"I'm sorry," Cicero said still unable to look directly at the Listener. She was not only incredibly beautiful, but he was still overwhelmed being alone with her as her escort. This was the Listener, the leader of the Black Hand and the entire Brotherhood! She was practically one step shy of being the Night Mother herself. "I tend to get lost in thought quite a bit."

"Still mourning your family from Bruma?" she asked gently. The Listener placed one hand over Cicero's. "I wept when I heard the news."

"Thank you," he said blushing as he looked away. "Cheydinhal suits me well though. I am happy to be here."

"It is important to find happiness where we can," Alisanne Dupre nodded wisely. "We deal in death so much, sometimes it is easy to forget that we are allowed other pursuits."

"But the Night Mother must always come first?" Cicero asked, belatedly realizing he was echoing the Listener's words from the other night and wondered if she would recognize them.

"Yes, always Mother first," Alisanne Dupre laughed.

"May I ask you a question?" Cicero asked shyly. He continued after the Listener nodded. "I noticed you address our Lady very casually, but I've never met anyone else who has. Is that a special privilege as the Listener?"

"Hm," Alisanne Dupre tilted her head impishly, "indirectly, I suppose. Our Mother is Mother to all, of course, but I feel a special bond with her. She does speak to me when she speaks to no one else." Her gray eyes darted back and forth mischievously and she leaned forward as if to tell a secret, "When Mother's voice is in my mind, it is very intimate. I feel like I am a small child sitting in my Mother's lap and while she is holding me close, I feel like I am the only person in the whole world. I feel safe and loved in a way I never felt before."

"Oh, wow," Cicero said softly. He was a bit jealous at the expression of pure joy on Alisanne Dupre's face as she recalled Listening to the Night Mother. What must it be like to actually hear the words and not just remember them?

"Tell me a bit about yourself," Alisanne Dupre nudged. "I want to know all of my siblings."

"I'm just a lowly assassin," Cicero said simply. "There's really not much to say."

"You do yourself an injustice," Alisanne Dupre teased. "None of the Brotherhood is lowly or unremarkable. Everyone I have spoken to has spoken very highly of you. You have impressed your Family with surviving the fall of Bruma and with your cloak and dagger style. The Baroness contract went very well, wouldn't you say, Chickpea?"

"Oh gods, who told you?" Cicero lamented as he buried his face in his hands.

Alisanne Dupre laughed. She gently took Cicero's hands and pulled them away. "Don't feel embarrassed. Pretty much everyone addressed you as Chickpea when I interviewed them. You should never feel vexed at a nickname, sweet Cicero, for it is a sign of affection from those who love you dearly. People don't make such endearments for those they dislike or hate."

"It's embarrassing," Cicero muttered, but he did feel comforted by the Listener's words. He sighed, "We should keep moving if you're going to get back to Bravil before dark. I know you're a trained assassin, but no sense risking drawing the attention of bandits unnecessarily."

"True," Alisanne Dupre sighed. "It has been a very long time since I drew my blade. I had to retire it when I was named Listener." When she saw Cicero's startled reaction, she nodded. "It's true. It is the curse of all of the Black Hand. We must retire our blades to better dedicate ourselves to Mother's needs. I keep up with my training in blade and magic in case I must protect our Matron's shrine, but I haven't sent Sithis a soul in decades. It's almost painful at times."

"But you hear the Night Mother's words," Cicero said gently.

"Yes," the Listener smiled, "I do."

The two assassins cleaned up their mess from eating and retrieved their mounts to keep heading south. They talked of nothing – the weather, the countryside, the siblings of Cheydinhal, but they did not talk of the war or the rapidly shrinking Brotherhood.

The time passed too quickly and soon it was time to part ways. When they came to the fork that separated for the Imperial City and Bravil, Alisanne Dupre asked, "What are your thoughts of our current situation, Cicero?"

"My personal feeling is that the Dark Brotherhood needs to, at the very least, maintain the illusion of being everywhere at once. The more we ignore Tamriel, the more people lose faith in the Dark Brotherhood - our power, our services, our dedication to the Void," Cicero said passionately. He had written similar thoughts in his journal before the Listener's arrival and eavesdropping on her conversation with Rasha regarding the matter only reinforced his belief.

"I'm glad there is at least once child of Sithis who agrees with me," Alisanne Dupre sighed. "I fear we have gotten comfortable with living well from our bonuses and no longer wish to take chances. An assassin must be cautious, but he must also be fearless and willing to take a risk when opportunity presents itself. Nocturnal may control luck, but our Lady is also known as Lucky Old Lady and surely she provides us with a bit of luck if not fate as well."

The Listener looked longingly south towards Bravil. "I must get home soon. Mother needs me. She always needs me just as I need her." The older woman turned to Cicero and leaned over to kiss him on the forehead, her taller mare giving her the advantage in height for once. "It was an honor to meet you, Chickpea of Bruma." She laughed when Cicero flushed with pleasure. Turning her black mare southward, the last words Cicero would ever hear from the Listener Alisanne Dupre were, "Kill well and often, brother! And don't forget what I said about how nicknames are way of showing affection!"

* * *

**Turdas 20****th**** of Hearthfire 208 4E 11:00 PM **

"You look faraway, my Fool of Hearts," the Listener Hecate said affectionately. She was reclining in her large bed attempting to read when Cicero had come into the room earlier. When she had requested for him to be quiet enough for her to finish her current chapter, he had curled up against her side. "What had you so preoccupied?"

"Hm," Cicero murmured as he rubbed his head against the Listener's shoulder, "remembering old days."

"Better days?" she smiled.

"Never," Cicero said firmly. He turned to his Listener, "I love you."

"My silly Fool," Hecate laughed as she kissed Cicero on his forehead.

Although the Jester had chosen the title Fool of Hearts, it was still a special name for Cicero and only Hecate ever used it. Cicero wasn't sure why his mind had cast back to those days back in Cheydinhal, but he rarely questioned his own motives. Why should he when there were only the Tenets and Mother to guide him? And the Listener, of course.

Hecate had the same kind eyes as Alisanne Dupre had, a fact Cicero had not missed. He had also noticed she still worried about how she would stay younger than him for so much longer, but Cicero didn't mind. Why would he be bothered that she was going to never age? One less worry for him really.

Maybe he had remembered because of Alisanne Dupre's oddly outdated clothes. Hecate thought she was going to live two or three hundred years. What rate would that be? Would she only look in her sixties when that much time had passed? Cicero had asked his family about Alisanne Dupre after she left, but no one knew anything about her other than she was the blessed Listener. What if Mother had certain criteria for her favorite child?

Oh, well, that was in the past and he would never know until he met Alisanne Dupre in the Void. Let the mystery stay until then. For now, Cicero had today. There was always today. Tomorrow could wait until later.


End file.
